


The Problem with Roomies

by craple



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble, Gen, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 18:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craple/pseuds/craple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Technically,” Griff says, slowly. “We are not defiling the couch.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Problem with Roomies

Having forced to be a roommate with the flirtatious new professor who calls himself ‘Griff’ in lieu of his real name due to the hideous nature of it all is not one of Jaqen’s better luck.

Fate is a bitch as we call it, and now Jaqen has to worry twenty-four hours a day whether or not the Chemist professor is going to shag a pure innocent student in his room during lunch, _worse_ , is _currently_ shagging said pure innocent student _on the couch they share_ during lunch hour – instead of his thesis or his well-being in general.

“The only thing I ask of you is to not bring or _let_ a student take a single step into our dorm,” Jaqen tells him. “That is a clear enough instruction, yes?”

Early morning the kind Headmaster had called Jaqen into his office to tell him of his current educational career status. A few things to fix, that he is needed in the city for a couple of days or so. Jaqen has contacted the key-holder of the entire university to modify the lock on his door, just in case.

Like, his bed being defiled, and so forth.

Griff nods, looking put-upon and a hundred percent serious. Jaqen narrows his eyes. Accepts it, then leaves.

\--

He comes back thirty minutes later when he realises that he forgot his laptop to find a half-naked Psychology major Arya Stark on the floor near the coffee table, Inglourious Basterds playing on the telly, and Griff’s jeans halfway down his thighs.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Jaqen hovers over their figures, and tries to think of a way to _not_ flip out and start bashing his head against the nearest concrete, or _Griff’s_ head against the nearest concrete. It’s a tough choice.

“Technically,” Griff says, slowly. “We are not defiling the couch.”

“Of course you aren’t,” Jaqen replies, smooth as silk. Smiles at them both. “There is something I forgot. Please do not continue until I am out of hearing area.” And with that, Jaqen shuffles into the kitchen, dashes out of the door, and gets into his car before he can contemplate suicide.

If he doesn’t get this job by then – there is some seriously large amount of people going _down_ , and Griff Targaryen is going to be the first.


End file.
